


To Be a Grimm

by giraffewithstripes



Category: Grimm, Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, M/M, grimm Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffewithstripes/pseuds/giraffewithstripes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel tries to comfort a fallen Castiel, reflecting on being a Grimm</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be a Grimm

He never sleeps on his back, Dean sleeps curled up on whatever side that Castiel just so happens to be facing, as if he still has his wings. Castiel imagines them curled into his back -

_You saw them once. When he punched you until you were bloody. You remember that don’t you? You saw him change, just like the others._

He grits his teeth, hammering that memory down. If he’d seen Dean, for what he really was, in all his brilliance he’d have ended up like like every other poor sap who thought it’d be a bright idea to look into the light. 

No. He’d been delirious, and hazy from the loss of blood. 

_It’s all lies and delirium. You’re just crazy._

It’d been like ever since Dad died. People changing into things they’re not. Demons and monsters that Castiel had never even heard of.

 

~:~

_“Grimm.”_

_How ugly did that word sound when you held the blade against an innocent child? Because you saw danger when there was none?_

_And how terrifying had Dean’s face been as he brought his wrath down upon you? Four faced, animal heads protruding from the wrinkled neck, protruding and snapping at each other, seized by rage. The front pair of startling blue eyes stared at you from a white mask. “AND I REBELLED FOR THIS?!”_

_And you blinked the blood from your eyes, expecting more blows, as he pinned you easily against the chain link. But he stopped. Because you were not worth the effort._

_~:~_

_I’ll watch you sleep._ Dean had joked once, slurping down a milkshake, after Castiel had told him that’s what his mom used to say. Castiel’s heavy, drugged eyelids will sometimes crack open, to see his eyes glistening in the dark; watching Castiel’s flickering eyelids. Heck, maybe the fallen angel had been deadly serious. He’d learnt by now, that Dean was the kind of person who’d play his feelings down. 

_He didn’t react like the others. They could always sense when he saw._

“You want to talk?” Castiel would mumble, eyesight foggy, straining to focus on the whole scope of Dean’s face, rather than those shiny eyes, the green a glimmering midnight blue in the dark shadow of the rocky motel bed. “Go back to sleep dumbass.” Dean would smirk, his voice soft and playful. But it’s cold, it doesn’t reach those shiny eyes.  Unconsciousness, claims Castiel once again, dragging him into black. 

He wakes again as Dean’s demons come for him. He’s kicked, punched, nudged awake, but he’s up - he’s up and he’s gripping Dean’s arm, pinning his arms down and telling him it’s okay. He doesn’t react to the blows, they’re all part of the routine. 

“Dean.” 

The angel wakes up frightened, jaw clenched, angry at himself. He looks up at Castiel, looks around the motel, and looks…disappointed. With himself, Castiel, it didn’t matter. It hurt. 

Dean purses his lips, eyes tight.  _Don’t talk to me about it._ Castiel reads, as he flips over to the side of the bed, not looking at Castiel. 

“I’m not going anywhere Dean.” Castiel says, flopping over onto his back and facing the ceiling. “I know you’re not Cas.” Dean says quietly. Castiel sighs, and listens for the sound of heavy breathing, as Dean slips into an easier sleep, his penance having been paid for the night. 

“I thought I was supposed to watch you sleep, keep that up and I’d call my own personal stalker.” 

“You know that’s the other way around.” Castiel retorted, grinning back at him. 

Dean smiles, and that shadow of a memory flashes over his vessel’s face, painting him in a muted watercolour. “Your eyes were blue weren’t they?” Castiel murmurs, sleepily. “With a lion and a zebra…” 

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. “Sometimes I forget you’re a Grimm.” Castiel relaxes. Somehow this soothes him.  _Grimm._ The word needn’t be painted in hate or fear. It was of no real consequence to Dean. He hadn’t reacted because it’d never been a big deal. 

“So that is what you look like?”

Dean frowned. “Not exactly…but that’s the closest you’ll ever be to seeing it. If you had seen me in my true form, you’d definitely have had your eyes would have bleed out of your sockets. It’s like a woge for angels, although you’re probably the first Grimm to have ever seen an angel -” Dean explained, getting animated. He stopped as Castiel’s eyes shut, and he was left to watch the quiet dawn, rise and tick away another day from this mortal body. He was no angel anymore. 

 


End file.
